What not to do while hiding from killers (in a wardrobe)
by Strawberrygeek
Summary: Will thinks he knows where the victim of their latest case was killed, so he and Hannibal go to verify it ( I suck at summaries) "We're trapped in a wardrobe; at least two killers are soon coming down here and may or may not find us. Talk about relaxing" He could more feel than hear Hannibal chuckle in front of him, hand still on his shoulder. Hannigram


The glass of red wine was half empty when Will suddenly fell quiet in the middle of talking about the latest stray he'd found, his gaze turning unfocused. The doctor looked at him, an amused smile curling around the corners of his lips.

It lasted only a moment, then Will's eyes snapped up, fixating on a point just above Hannibal's brows. "It's an abandoned basement."

Will was already at the door by the time Hannibal stood up, giving his unfinished wine a rueful look before following Will.

"What is?"

"The crime scene where the victim was killed. I think it's a basement."

"So, it's more a hunch, then" It wasn't a question, and Will was grateful that Hannibal trusted his ability enough to not ask further questions. He wasn't sure himself what it was that had evoked this feeling; perhaps it had been something in Hannibal's dining room.

A few miles out of town were over a dozen old basements at the side of a hill. They had once been available to rent, but nobody used them anymore. It was cold, and Will shivered in his light clothing when he stepped out of the car. They had brought flashlights with them, as Will doubted the electricity down there was still working.

They parked at a motel twenty minute's walk from the hill, because they had used Hannibal's car and the doctor had insisted on not letting it get all muddy—he'd only had it cleaned it three days ago.

There was only one unit with a lot of fresh footprints leading to the entrance and back. The door wasn't locked, to Will's surprise. A staircase emerged into a spacious room, which didn't look abandoned in the slightest. There was a couch with a television in front of it in one corner and a desk in the opposite one. At the end was a small passage, which led into a smaller room with a camp bed and a wardrobe.

"This is it. This is where Mike Becker was killed." It reeked of bleach and cigarette smoke. The source of the smell was in the middle of the bigger room. Obviously, the killer had removed the blood from the floor.

No, killers, Will corrected himself, pulling out his cell phone. He had assumed correctly that Mike Becker hadn't been the victim of the serial killer, whose case he was currently working on, but only disguised as one.

"I have to call Jack." Will dialed, but couldn't get connected. "Damn, there's no reception here."

"Will, perhaps it would be wise for us to leave. You don't perchance carry your gun with you?" Hannibal's voice was perfectly calm, making Will frown in slight bemusement.

"No, I left it at home before I came to you. Why?" He turned around and followed Hannibal's gaze. Two opened, but not yet empty bottles of beer were standing in front of the couch, menu of a pizzeria lying on the armrest. Will swore under his breath.

Halfway up the stairs, Will froze, listening intently and Hannibal stopped shortly behind him.

"Is that a car?"

"I'd like to say no, but I'm afraid I can't do that." Will followed Hannibal back down the stairs and into the smaller room, adrenal gland eagerly producing adrenalin. Luckily, the wardrobe was nearly empty except for a few shirts and trousers, which Hannibal pushed to the side and motioned for Will to step inside. It was cramped, his limbs awkwardly tangled with Hannibal's in the lack of space, and Will thought he might get a bit claustrophobic.

Hannibal took their flashlights, switched them off, and probably put them in his pockets—Will didn't know and he didn't really care at the moment. His breathing was slowly but surely growing panicked from the close quarters mixed with the distressing possibility of being found and killed. Maybe if, whoever they were, were unarmed, they'd stand a chance.

"Will."

He wasn't so much worried about his own safety, he'd had a bit of training after all, but what about Hannibal? It was his fault that Hannibal was here and if they were armed, there was nothing Will could do to protect him.

"Will."

He flinched when a hand touched his shoulder. Hannibal said softly, "You'll have enough time to panic if they find us."

Will nodded, forgetting that Hannibal wouldn't be able to see it in the dark.

"Try to relax. It would be terribly inconvenient if you hyperventilated." Will snorted in disbelief, but still tried to match his breathing with Hannibal's. It was almost eerie how calm he sounded despite the situation they were in, but then again, this was Hannibal and Will failed to remember a time where the doctor didn't appear at least partly calm and composed.

"We're trapped in a wardrobe; at least two killers are soon coming down here and may or may not find us. Talk about relaxing." He could more feel than hear Hannibal chuckle in front of him, hand still on his shoulder.

"Jonny, how many times do I have to fucking tell you to lock the door behind you!?" Will tensed, his breathing quickening again and Hannibal's hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. There seemed to be some kind of response, but Will was too focused on regulating his breathing to hear.

"Damn right it won't, otherwise you'll end up like Mike!" So the victim had been one of them. The voices came closer, but they probably set down on the couch, because they didn't come nearer. There was silence for a while, making Will twitch his fingers nervously.

"The pizza is good. Tastes way better than the one from the store we robbed." The television was turned on, cutting all further conversations off.

With every minute that ticked by, Will grew painfully more aware of Hannibal's body much too close to his own, could feel the other's heat seeping through his clothes where their limbs touched. Will gulped, heart now pounding for an entirely different reason. It would be wise to divert his attention to something else, but the only other option was their possible doom just outside the enclosed space of the wardrobe. Not really appealing.

The smell of Hannibal's aftershave filled his nose with every inhale he took. Strong, but not obtrusive. A rich scent, but Will couldn't quite point out any underlying notes concretely, much as it was with the man himself.

How long would they have to hide in here? One hour? Three? Five? Will wasn't sure he could hold out so long.

Hannibal's even breath brushed over his face and although he'd been freezing outside it was becoming unbearable hot, sweat forming at the nape of his neck. He gnawed at his lower lip and shifted, unable to remain still any longer.

And oh, that hadn't been a good decision. Like wearing a ski suit in midsummer and then taking a sunbath in it.

Against his better judgment, Will wriggled and squirmed some more, hoping to get more space between them, but he only noticed now how small the wardrobe really was. The wood of the shelf unit was already pressing into his back and his foot had ended up behind Hannibal's, leg pressed against the wood by the doctor's to keep it still. He was sure Hannibal's lips were pressed into a disapproving line as the hand that wasn't on his shoulder sneaked around his waist, shifting Will closer to prevent further movement.

Had Hannibal's leg before his wriggling only brushed against his inner thigh, it now was completely settled between his legs, and Will felt paralyzed, unable to move for fear of making it even worse than it already was. Much to Will's dismay, he found his body eagerly responding, torn between sending blood south or producing more stress hormones, but admirably managing to do both.

He'd never really minded that his touch-starved body was easy to arouse, at least until now. He could feel a blush spreading across his face, only the possibility that the men outside were armed keeping him from escaping this soon to be very embarrassing situation. Will wished the ground would swallow him at this moment.

It could be worse. Will tried to reason with himself. He failed miserably, but at least his slight arousal shouldn't be noticeable. Not yet. He had never excelled in seeing the bright side of things.

Hannibal's leg nudged him slightly, making Will gasp silently. His head snapped up to look at Hannibal incredulously, because this couldn't be real. Will had to have imagined it. A second movement proved otherwise, firmer this time, and Will had to bite his lip to refrain from swearing.

The hand on Will's shoulder moved upwards, trailing his jaw, then his lips, deliberately leisurely before curling around his neck, urging his head forward to meet Hannibal's mouth. The kiss started off slowly, but soon grew more heated. Will clutched at Hannibal's shirt (surely wrinkling it terribly, but he couldn't care less at the moment), pressing into the other body. Hannibal's leg connected with Will's now-obvious arousal, evoking a loud moan from Will. Hannibal ended their kiss abruptly and Will froze in shock, dreading that he'd ruined his first real friendship in years, but Hannibal didn't pull back. Instead, he bit Will's lower lip sharply, and he managed to stifle a pained groan as his pleasure-dazed mind caught up with their current situation.

The men outside laughed loudly at some show on the television.

Will nodded against Hannibal's lips to show that he understood and would keep quiet. The only problem was that it was impossible, which Will soon noticed when Hannibal's skilled hand roamed over his body, sliding under his shirt and letting those oh so well educated fingers pinch his right nipple. A strangled groan was swallowed by Hannibal's mouth who, in reaction to that, let his fingers scratch over Will's chest warningly.

The fact that, if the men outside heard them, they'd most likely end up dead should really have hindered his dick from straining against his jeans, but as it turned out, Hannibal's lower part didn't seem bothered by it either. And this probably should have been the point where he should start questioning Hannibal's mental state and not only his own, but the doctor seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

After squeezing lightly at the bulge in Hannibal's trousers, Will tugged Hannibal's shirt up and let his hands travel upwards. Hannibal's tongue invaded his mouth, hungrily tasting everything it could reach. The hand had ceased assaulting his nipple, wandering down instead, to unfasten his belt and open his zipper. Will inhaled sharply through his nose when Hannibal's fingers came in contact with his erection. Fingertips danced across his sensitive flesh. Will trembled beneath Hannibal and staying quiet appeared now like a delusional idea.

Hannibal appeared to know just how and where to touch Will in order to shatter and break his already diminished self-control, and he would have given the doctor an accusing glare if it weren't for the complete darkness surrounding them. Closing his eyes tightly, Will fought the urge to bite on his fist, because that wasn't really an option with Hannibal's tongue still in his mouth. But damn those fingers.

Will hastily unzipped Hannibal's fly, hands slipping beneath the waistband of his briefs. The approving hum that escaped Hannibal's throat was more than worth this sweet torture. If the situation had provided it, Will would have liked to find out just how many more of these he could evoke from the doctor, but as it was, he really wanted to get over and be done with it.

Pushing Hannibal's underwear down, Will shifted forward, bringing their cocks together, accidentally biting down on Hannibal's tongue. Instead of drawing back, Hannibal bucked his hips, grinding into Will and wrapping his hand around both their erections. A loud dispute flared up outside, drowning out the noise of the television, but Will didn't get the chance to find out what they were arguing about as those devilish good fingers didn't falter in their task.

The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and Will whimpered as Hannibal circled his thumb over the tip of his shaft, smearing precum down his length. Hannibal drew his mouth back, giving Will only a moment to greedily suck in air before his hand pressed over his lips and part of his nose. Hannibal kissed a trail down Will's neck, sucking at his carotid artery, all the while steadily stroking their erections. Will tried to match his pace, but couldn't quite keep up a steady rhythm as Hannibal's teeth scraped over his skin, nibbling at his collarbone.

He was rather thankful for the support of the shelf unit when Hannibal's hand tightened just right around him, speeding up a little and his knees threatened to give out under him. The hand pressed more firmly over his mouth when Will moaned, the sensation overwhelming him, reducing the voices outside until he barely registered them anymore. He felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen, white dots dancing behind his still tightly shut eyes. Another moan was muffled by Hannibal's palm as Will came, Hannibal following a few strokes later, biting into Will's neck.

Three hours later, the men eventually left the basement, and when they switched the flashlights back on, Will looked everywhere except Hannibal, not sure how to behave now that they weren't trapped in the wardrobe anymore. Will's fingers twitched nervously, and he opened his mouth to ask what exactly this had been between them. He closed it again when he couldn't find the words. Maybe it had merely been a now-regretful act in the face of possible death for Hannibal.

Hannibal didn't move, obviously waiting for Will to gather the courage to ask. Will took a deep breath and looked at Hannibal's face.

"So, umm. Was— was this just something adrenalin induced, or…" Will trailed off, uncertain how to end the sentence. He certainly wanted it to be something more, but he didn't want to endanger their current relationship for it.

"It's whatever you want it to be, Will."

He snorted at that nondescript response. "That's no answer, Hannibal." He hesitated only a moment before using the doctor's first name, receiving an approving smile. Hannibal stepped closer, stopping right in front of him and bent down to capture his lips in a breathtaking kiss. Will's eyes snapped open, though he didn't remember closing them and he squeaked in surprise when a hand squeezed his buttock firmly. He could feel Hannibal smirk against his lips.

"It would be my pleasure to repeat this without the threat of imminent death."

"I'd very much like that."

As soon as his cell phone had reception again, Will called Jack and told him about the basement where the victim had been killed.

He hoped they'd find no reason to make a trace analysis inside the wardrobe.

* * *

for a prompt on dreamwidth  
after having read so many pornographic fanfics it should really be easier to write such scenes  
feel free to complain about any horrid grammar mistakes, I'll happily correct them (I should really start looking for a beta reader)  
hope you enjoyed it =) and I know the title sucks, but for now I can't seem to come up with anything better, but there's not enough suspence to title it "Trapped" or anything like that and I think it's really educational to know what not to do in such a situation XP

edit:

thanks dysprositos for correcting this story! =)


End file.
